Per Ardua Ad Astra: Genesis
by nightshade468
Summary: Jules thinks she's got life all figured out. Then she's attacked by an owl, and life turns upside down. Second in the series.
1. Peculiar Trunks and Kamikaze Pigeons

disclaimer: Still not J.K. Wish I was, but alas, some wishes will just never come true.

a/n: Here it is! We finally get to meet Jules! YAY! (waves her arms around enthusiastically, then pouts when everyone ignores her) Oh, well. Enjoy!

**Per Ardua Ad Astra – "Through Hardship To The Stars"**

Part II: Genesis

by nightshade468

Chapter One: Peculiar Trunks and Kamikaze Pigeons

"Juliet, get down from there! The floorboards are rotted; you could fall in!"

Eleven-year-old Jules Donovan rolled her eyes and ignored her mother. "It's fine, Mom! I'm watching where I'm going!" She was more careful about where she stepped in the old, musty attic from that point on, however.

Her aunt had recently decided to move from Jules' grandmother's old house in the suburbs into a sleek new condo at the other end of town. Jules and her mother had bought the house outright from her aunt and uncle, their only condition being that they had to go through the old boxes in the attic and decide what needed to be pitched and what didn't.

Or rather, her mother was going through the mountains of boxes and chests stored up in the old attic. Jules was just poking around, exploring and generally making even more of a mess for her mother to sort through. After only about half an hour, she was bored out of her mind. She was heading back in her mom's direction when, for some peculiar reason, one trunk caught her eye.

It was buried under four other trunks and boxes, shoved back into the far corner of the room. Coughing, Jules managed to lever the others out of the way, finally reaching the old black chest.

The thing was covered in almost an inch of dust. Caught in a sneezing fit, Jules rubbed her tearing eyes and fumbled with the old-fashioned latch. After a moment, she was still jiggling it, but it wouldn't open, darn it! She slammed her palm down on the top of the trunk, sending up a huge cloud of dust and starting another sneezing fit.

"Jules?" her mother called. "What are you doing back there?"

"Just looking around, Mom!" Jules called back between explosions.

"Well, don't make too much of a mess! Whatever you get out you need to put back!"

"Ok, Mom!" Now she was getting a bit exasperated. It wasn't as if her mother hadn't told her the same thing fifty other times.

"I'm going downstairs to get the mail; don't break anything!"

"All RIGHT, Mom!"

Finally, she heard her mother's footsteps going down the stairs. "All right," she said again, and hunkered back down in front of the trunk. "Now, let's figure out how to open you. There must be something I've missed."

She felt around the front of the chest, carefully wiping off the dust and polishing the nameplate on the front. "_Elisabeth N. Galloway,_" she read. "Wait, Elisabeth? Wasn't that my grandmother's maiden name? The one I'm named after?" She thought back to the time she'd looked at her mother's family tree. She'd never met her grandmother, not that she could remember, anyway, so she couldn't really be sure.

"Well, if you were my grandma Lisbeth's, then she probably wouldn't mind if I opened you," she said to the trunk, feeling rather foolish talking to an inanimate object. "So, if you really wouldn't mind, could you please…" She trailed off in awe.

While she'd been talking to the trunk, she'd also been joggling at the lock, and as soon as she'd said the word please, the dratted lock-thing had popped open with no resistance whatsoever.

The trunk lid then popped open all on its own. "Wow," she whispered. "Okay… thanks, I guess?"

The trunk did nothing further.

"Right," she muttered. "I'm talking to a trunk. I sound nuts." Shaking her head, she peered inside. "I wonder what's inside here. Must be pretty old."

Reaching a hand down in, she felt something very soft. Pulling it out carefully (she didn't want to damage it if it was fragile), she spread what was apparently a silky-soft velvet cloak on her knees. "Wow," she whispered again. "I wonder where she got this."

In the dim light, it was difficult to see what color the garment was, but Jules thought it looked like it was a deep, rich violet, almost black. Stroking its plushness softly, she folded it and laid it aside, careful to place it on top of a nearby wicker chair so it wouldn't get dirty on the floor.

The next thing she pulled out was a book, one of many she had felt inside the chest. She held it up in the dim light and rubbed at the cover. "Fantastical Beasts and Where To Find Them, Twenty-Second Edition?" She blinked. "What the heck? It looks like a schoolbook, for crying out loud."

Shaking her heads he set it aside and pulled out two more. "Quidditch Through The Ages? What the heck is quid-datch?" She glanced at the other one. "And what's 'Dark Forces'? And why would you need to have self-protection from them?"

Completely baffled, she sat back. What had her great-grandmother been into? Was she a fan of science-fiction? 'Cause all those books and things almost looked like they were about magic and stuff. And she did have that cloak… but magic wasn't real, it was all pretend. Why had her grandmother kept all this stuff locked in the attic in an old trunk?

Jules was jerked from her thoughts by her mother's voice, hollering up from the kitchen that it was time for dinner. Puzzled, the eleven-year-old headed down the stairs after stacking up the old boxes on top of the trunk again. Something prickled on the back of her neck, though, as she started down the stairs, and she fought the urge to turn back and look.

She was really creeped out by the discovery of her grandmother's trunk, but somehow it didn't feel right to tell her mom about it. Carrie Donovan watched her daughter throughout the evening, wondering what was making her typically cheerful child brood so much.

Jules went to bed on time for once, and she knew her mother thought it was strange that she didn't even beg to stay up another half-hour and read.

After tossing and turning for close two an hour, Jules finally drifted off to a restless sleep. She didn't have any real _dreams_, per say, but she kept having a sense of _something_, just on the edge of her perception. When she woke the next morning, she felt as though she hadn't gotten any sleep at all.

She rolled out of bed, groaning, and stumbled towards the bathroom, but suddenly she stopped in her tracks.

There, just next to the door of her room, sat her grandmother Lisbeth's trunk.

Jules stared, uncomprehending. She remembered packing it up again, locking it and stacking other boxes back on top. She _remembered_ doing that.

But there sat the trunk, its black leather sides clean and dust-free, as if it had never been up in the attic. Its silver fastenings and lock were polished so well that they gleamed like mirrors. The engraved name on the silver plate above the lock almost seemed to glow in the morning sunlight.

_Juliet E. Donovan._

Jules ran.

xxxxxxx

Twenty minutes and four waffles later, Jules felt almost normal again. Watching her mother water the plants at the open kitchen window, she sighed to herself. It had just been a figment of her imagination, after all. And if it wasn't perhaps she _had_ gone up and dragged the trunk down the night before. She just didn't remember it. Yeah, of course, that was it. Her memory was going, her being an old lady of eleven and all. That was it. Of course it was.

She was still buried in these reassuring thoughts when the kamikaze pigeon zoomed in through the window and dive-bombed her head.

TBC…

xxxxxxx

a/n: Well? A thought, anyone?


	2. Stolen Waffles and Crackpot Letters

disclaimer: I own nuttin', honey.

**Per Ardua Ad Astra – "Through Hardship To The Stars"**

Part II: Genesis

by nightshade468

Chapter Two: Stolen Waffles and Crackpot Letters

Jules glanced up from her favorite meal of the day just in time to duck as what looked like an overgrown pigeon dropped on her head.

"Effing A!" she yelped. Her mother spun away from the stove and smacked her hand with a spatula.

"Juliet Donovan!" she scolded.

Jules was too busy to do more than make small "eek"s as she waved her arms around frantically, trying to dislodge the lunatic bird currently perched on her head. Unfortunately, the bird seemed to be trying to grab at her hands with its curved beak. Her mother gasped and swung at the big creature with the spatula, which had no effect whatsoever.

"Jules, why is there an owl on your head" her mother asked, rather calmly, as she hit the bird again (and yet again, helped not at all).

"I don't know!" Jules yelled, finally managing to dislodge the crazy bird, knocking it onto the table in front of her. She dropped the waffle she'd been holding clenched in her fist and watched, amazed, as the thing inhaled the pastry, cleaning her entire plate with astonishing speed. It then spread its wings and knocked over her orange juice, perching atop one of the cabinets with a satisfied "HOOT!"

Jules and her mom just stared.

"Oooookaaaay," the girl muttered.

"What is that?" Her mother pointed at her plate. There, amid the few tiny crumbs that were the only remnants of her breakfast –ruddy owl- was a letter. Jules picked it up, turning it over.

_Ms. Juliet Donovan_

_The Kitchen_

_148 Wisteria Lane_

_Westchester, New York_

_America_

"Well, that's really creepy," she muttered. She opened the envelope and drew out the thick piece of parchment, unfolding it.

_Dear Ms. Donovan,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall,_

_Deputy Headmistress_

Jules just stared at the parchment for a minute.

Then she said, very quietly, "What?"

With a glance up at her mother, who had an unreadable look on her face, she continued. "What is this, some kind of sick joke? What kind of crackpot could come up with something like this? I mean, this is as weird as grandma's trunk, all that stupid _magic_ stuff inside and all. Come on, magic isn't real…"

She trailed off as she saw her mother looking at her, the expression on her face something in between angry and resigned.

"What trunk are you talking about, Jules?"

"Um…" Jules shifted in her seat guiltily. "The trunk that I found in the attic yesterday that somehow ended up in my room this morning. I really didn't bring it down, Mom, I swear! It just appeared in my room, and unless I sleepwalked and uncovered it again and kinda re-engraved the nametag, then-"

"Wait," her mother interrupted, cutting her off. "You re-engraved the nameplate on your grandmother Lisbeth's trunk?"

"NO!" Jules yelped. "I woke up this morning and it was there, all engraved with my name and everything, but yesterday it had 'Lisbeth Galloway' on it! I don't know how it happened, Mom, I swear to God!"

Her mother sighed. "Jules…" She trailed off, not really knowing what to say. She had been afraid that this would happen, but now that it had, she had no idea what to do. If only Drew were still alive… but he wasn't, and she would have to face her disbelieving daughter alone. Joy to the world.

Carrie Donovan put her hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Come in here, baby. I need to explain some things to you."

Now totally bewildered, Jules followed her mother into the living room, turning her head as the crazy owl swooped silently in behind her, landing softly on the back of the sofa, almost as if it wanted to hear this too.

Carrie looked at her daughter, sitting there expectantly, then took a deep breath.

"Jules," she began, "your grandmother was… involved… in something. She never told me exactly what it was, but when she died, she left me a letter saying that she had taken care of your schooling, and no matter how strange it seemed to me, I was to send you to the school she had enrolled you in. She said it was a matter, frankly, of life and death."

"So," Jules said quietly, "she wanted me to go to a school that teaches magic? Real magic? Like witches, and wizards? Like Gandalf and Merlin?"

"I believe so." Carrie stood and went to the desk, opening a drawer. "She wrote that I was to contact an Albus Dumbledore when you received your acceptance letter, and that he would help you get started. Who that is, though, I don't know."

"Albus Dumbledore?" Jules asked, holding up her letter again. "It says that he's the headmaster of the school, and a pretty big kahuna, if all these titles mean anything."

"Well, then I suppose we should write to him," Carrie said with a sigh, picking up a piece of paper.

"No, wait," Jules interjected. "I'll do it, Mom."

"All right," Carrie agreed quietly. "But how are you going to send it to him?"

Jules glanced over at the owl, who blinked at her. "With my new friend here, of course."

xxxxxxx

A response to her note came only an hour after Jules had sent the owl on its way again. She tore it open, eager to see what the wizard had to say.

"Dear Juliet," she read aloud to her mom. "I am very pleased to hear from you. Your grandmother was one of my best students, and a great friend. I have missed her greatly, and am looking forward to having you amongst my students, my dear. I realize that all of this probably seems very strange to you right now, but I assure you that you will find your years at Hogwarts to be an enjoyable and educational experience. As I believe that you have no way of obtaining your supplies, I have arranged for a good friend of mine, a Mrs. Fairweather, to bring you to Diagon Alley along with her daughter on 31 August, and she will make sure you will be able to get to the Hogwarts Express the next day, if this is convenient for you. Yours sincerely, Albus Dumbledore. Post-scriptum: Enclosed I leave you the key to Lisbeth's vault at Gringotts' Bank, the contents of which I believe she left to you. A.D." As she finished reading, Jules looked up at her mother.

"Well," Carrie said after a moment. "This is certainly unexpected."

xxxxxxx

a/n: R&R! And thank you to everyone who reviewed so far! You make writing this so much more enjoyable!


End file.
